Point of Retreat by Colleen Hoover Page A

perform. A small part of me still does, but I think it’s more the adrenaline rush than anything. The first time I ever came here was with my father. He was really into the arts. Music, poetry, painting, reading, writing. All of it. I saw him perform here for the first time when I was fifteen. I’ve been hooked since. I hate that Caulder never got to know that side of him. I’ve kept as much of my dad’s writings as I could find, even a couple of old paintings. Someday I’ll give them all to Caulder. Someday when he's old enough to appreciate it.
     
    I take the stage and walk up to the microphone, adjusting the height of it. My poem isn’t going to make sense to anyone besides Lake. This one’s just for her.
     
    “My piece is called Point of Retreat, ” I say into the microphone. The spotlight is bright, so I can’t see her from up here, but I have a pretty good idea she’s smiling. I don’t rush the words of the poem, I perform it slow so she can take in every word of it.
     
     
     
     
     
    Twenty-two hours and our war begins.
     
    Our war of limbs
     
    and lips
     
    and hands …
     
     
     
    The point of retreat
     
    Is no longer a factor
     
    When both sides of the line
     
    Agree to surrender
     
     
     
    I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lost …
     
    Or is it how many times you’ve won?
     
    This game we’ve been playing for fifty-nine weeks
     
    I’d say the score
     
    is
     
    none
     
    to
     
    none.
     
     
     
    Twenty-two hours and our war begins
     
    Our war of limbs
     
    and lips
     
    and hands…
     
     
     
    The best part of finally
     
    Not calling retreat?
     
    The showers above us
     
    Raining down on our feet
     
     
     
    While the bombs are exploding and the guns fire their rounds . Before the two of us collapse to the ground. Before the battle, before the war…
     
    You need to know
     
    I’d go fifty-nine more.
     
    Whatever it takes to let you win.
     
    I’d retreat all over
     
    and all over
     
    and over
     
    again.
     
     
     
    I back away from the microphone and find the stairs. I’m not even halfway back to the booth when Lake throws her arms around my neck and kisses me. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear.
     
    When I slide into the booth, Caulder rolls his eyes. “You could have warned us, Will. We would have hid in the bathroom.”
     
    “I thought it was beautiful,” Kiersten says.
     
    It’s after nine when round two gets underway. “Come on kids, you guys have school tomorrow. We need to go,” I say. They all whine as they slide out of the booth one by one.
     
    ***
     
    Once we get home, the kids head into the houses and Lake and I linger in the driveway, hugging. It's getting harder and harder to be separated from her at night, knowing she’s just yards away. It's become a nightly struggle not to text her and beg her to come crawl in bed with me. Now that our promise to Julia has been fulfilled, I have a feeling nothing will stop us after tomorrow night. Well, other than the fact that we're trying to set a good example for Kel and Caulder. But there's ways to sneak around that.
     
    I slide my hands up the back of her shirt to warm them. They’re freezing. She apparently thinks so too and begins to squirm, trying to get out of my grasp.
     
    "Your hands are freezing!" she laughs, still trying to pull away from me.
     
    I just squeeze her tighter. "I know. That's why you need to be still so I can warm them up." I rub them against her skin, attempting to keep the mental images of tomorrow night from overtaking my thoughts at the moment. It's so distracting. I remove my hands from underneath her shirt and wrap my arms around her.
     
    “So. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” I ask her.
     
    She shoots me a dirty look. “Do you want me to punch you in the face or the nuts?”
     
    I laugh, but prepare to defend myself just in case. “My grandparents are worried the boys will get bored at their house, so they want to keep them at my